On Her Wedding Day
by David001
Summary: What would have happened if Harm had not gone down in the Atlantic, and Mac's wedding had gone ahead as planned?


**Title:** On Her Wedding Day

**Author: **David

**Rating:**T

**Summary:** What might have happenedhad Harm not gone down in the Atlantic and Mac's wedding to Mic had gone ahead.

**Category:** Angst, Shipper H/M

**Completed: **September 14, 2005

Harm sat quietly on the couch–feet propped up on the coffee table–staring blankly at the ceiling. The jacket of his dress-whites was draped unceremoniously across the back of the couch. The top two buttons of his crisp, white shirt were undone. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes–running one hand through his closely cropped hair.

It was over–finally. After nearly two years of waiting, Sarah MacKenzie was now Mrs. Sarah Brumby. Harm wanted to scream–to throw something, anything–but he didn't have the strength to stand, let alone rage.

Letting his arm flop listlessly onto the back of the couch, he thought back to the events earlier in the day. He thought about how beautiful Mac looked in her lacy wedding dress. He thought about how his heart had raced as he watched the Admiral lead her down the aisle from his spot in the front row beside Renee. He thought about how his chest had constricted in agony as AJ placed Mac's hand in Mic's as they stood before the minister.

Most of the ceremony was nothing but a blur to him–the voice of the minister had droned on like a swarm of buzzing insects–and Harm didn't remember a thing that was said until he'd ask if anyone had reason why these two people should not be joined.

He didn't remember standing, but he could still hear the sound of Renee's gasp beside him, and the murmurs that followed from those seated nearby. He could remember the shocked look on Mac's face when her eyes met his, and the look of death that Brumby had given him. He could remember Renee's–at least he assumed it was her's–hand on his arm, trying to pull him down beside her.

He had just stood there, rooted in place; his own mind at war with his heart over what he was supposed to do now. He loved Mac–he knew that–and he wanted to be with her, but, deep down, what he wanted most was for her to be happy. If Brumby made her happy, then he had no alternative but to accept that choice.

That didn't mean he could watch it happen.

Eyes still locked with hers, Harm had given Mac a tight smile, and a nod that he hooped was encouraging. Hiding his regret, he squared his shoulders, pulled his arm away from whomever it was beside him that held it, turned quickly, and walked away. He could still hear the gasp from all those gathered that had echoed through the church as he left. As he did the click of the door closing behind him, and the feel of the stone steps beneath his feet as he walked away from everything that was important to him–away from all that he loved.

Harm's thoughts were interrupted by a loud pounding on his door. He groaned in frustration; it was probably Renee, here to ream him out for all the embarrassment he'd caused her. Shaking his head in resignation he yelled, "It's open!" And then leaned back to stare at the ceiling again.

He heard the door open, and then close quietly, but Harm didn't look over. Instead he braced himself for the barrage of angry words he knew were coming.

"Harm?"

At the sound of Mac's voice a few feet away, he shot to his feet. "Mac, what the hell are you doing here?" He didn't think he would have been more surprised if the Pope had shown up at his door.

Her beautiful eyes–which were red and puffy–found his. She was still in her wedding dress, her veil hanging cockeyed from where it was snagged in her hair by a single bobby-pin. "I could ask you the same question," her voice was barely more than a whisper, and Harm could feel the pain that permeated her words. "You promised me that you would be there for my wedding." She sniffled. "But you walked out before it was finished, and at the worst possible moment." Her eyes were pleading now. "Why?"

Unable to bear the anguished look in her eyes, Harm turned away, looking at his hand instead. "I...I'm sorry, Mac," he stammered. "I know what I promised, and I really tried, but..." He shook his head in frustration.

"But what?"

The sound of her voice at his shoulder sent his heart thundering wildly in his chest. When he felt her hand come to rest lightly between his shoulders, his knees nearly gave out, and his head snapped up to stare blankly out the window.

"Please, Harm," she implored. "Tell me."

His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. All the air left his body and his legs finally did fail him. He flopped down face-first onto the couch, his arms draped across the back. Staring at a dusty spot on the floor, he spoke, "I just couldn't do it, Mac. I just couldn't watch you marry him." Harm scooted around so that he was facing her, but played with his Academy ring so that he would have to look at her. "And when the minister asked if anyone objected to your marrying him, I was on my feet before I realised what was happening; desperate to tell him that I did."

He felt her ease onto the couch beside him, but he still didn't look at her–he couldn't. Her hand came to rest on his own–sending a bolt of lightning arcing through his body–stilling his hand that was nervously spinning his Academy ring round and round on his finger. "So, why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't, no matter how much I wanted to."

Her hand cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Why?"

Harm swallowed involuntarily at the pleading look in her eyes. "Because," he said quietly. "You had made your choice. You had decided that you wanted to marry, Brumby. I thought I had come to terms with that decision, but seeing you in the church–wearing that dress–about to pledge yourself to him forever..." he paused to take a breath. "I realised that I wasn't ok with it; that I didn't want you to marry him, that I...um..." He couldn't make himself say the rest.

Mac took his face in both her hands, looking him squarely in the eyes. "That you what?"

Unable to withstand the onslaught of her gaze, he spoke softly. "That I loved you."

Tearing his face from her grasp, Harm stood, taking a few steps away, and threw his arms up in frustration. "Do you see now why I couldn't say anything?" He asked, turning to watch her as she sat in stunned silence on the couch. He came back over to kneel in front of her, taking both of her hands in his. "I love you, Mac, but you were about to marry, Brumby. No matter what I wanted, what you want has to come first. Your happiness is more important to me than anything, and so I had to remain silent; I couldn't risk your future because of my desires." He squeezed her hands gently. "But since I was on my feet–standing there like a midshipman on parade–but couldn't say what I wanted to say, and couldn't just sit back down and watch you marry him...I did the only thing that I could–I left–and I am so very sorry."

He looked up into her eyes, watching as a thousand different emotions danced across the bottomless brown pools. Frozen in time they stared at each other as the minutes passed. "Mac?" He questioned softly.

The sound of his voice pushed her over the edge, and she shattered like fine crystal. Her face crumpled in agony as the tears started to stream down her cheeks. He shoulders trembled, and with one, violent, intake of breath, she descended into wracking sobs, like a lone leaf caught in a hurricane.

Instinct took over, and Harm climbed onto the couch and pulled her into his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair, cupping her head as she wailed against his chest. Hot tears stung his own eyes, and he tightened his grip around her.

She cried and cried, as he rocked her gently in his arms; desperate to ease her suffering, but having no idea how to do it. So, he just held on and suffered with her.

The minutes passed and finally her sobs waned, her trembling body stilled, her laboured breathing eased. She did not pull back, instead, she laid one hand–palm down–against his chest. She looked up at him through tear-stained eyes, a small smile ghosting across her face. "I think I needed that."

Harm hugged her close again. "I'm sorry, Mac; I never meant to hurt you."

She shook her head, lying it back against his chest–her hand playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. "No," she said. "It wasn't this–at least, it wasn't all this." She took a deep breath, smoothing her hand across his chest. "The stress has been building for a while now–a few weeks at least." She looked up into his eyes again. "Since my engagement party, anyway." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and she snuggled in closer. "Better that this happened now than at the wedding."

The mention of the wedding brought reality crashing down on him. Harm drew back a bit; not quite willing to release her fully. Mac turned her head to look into his eyes. "Um..." He said uncertainly. "Do you need a ride to the reception? I'm sure that Mic is undoubtedly wondering where you are by now."

Mac shook her head, pulling him back towards her. "No, Harm, there's no need to drive me anywhere."

"Why's that?"

She traced the edge of his collar with her finger. "Because, there isn't going to be a reception," she said timidly.

Harm pulled back–shocked and elated at the same time. "What? Why?"

"Well," she began shyly. "When I all but jumped off the dias to go after you, I think it became pretty...obvious... that things were over for the day."

"But what about, Brumby?"

Mac laughed hesitantly. "Uh... he's not very happy, and let's leave it at that."

His arms tightened around her. "I'm sorry, Mac. Have you given any thought about when you wanted to reschedule the wedding?"

Mac patted his chest lightly. "You really are oblivious, aren't you?" She sighed against his chest. "There isn't going to be a wedding–at least not with, Mic."

Harm had to remind himself to breathe. "Why?" was all he managed to say.

She was playing with the buttons on his shirt again. "Like I said, things have been building since my engagement party. I think I have been looking for a way out of it since then, but I was too afraid to just call it off."

"Why would you want to call it off," he asked. "I thought you loved him?"

"I thought I did, too, but after my engagement party I realised something."

"What?" He would not let himself hope–not yet.

She took a deep breath. "I realised that I didn't really love, Mic; I just loved what he was offering me. I loved the idea of being a wife, with a home and a husband, maybe a few kids, but I didn't love the man." She tucked her head up under his chin. "I knew then that I couldn't marry him, but it was too late for me to do anything about it."

"How can you be sure you didn't love him? I mean, you seemed pretty certain that night on the Admiral's porch."

Mac leaned back and smiled, touching his cheek with her hand. "Harm, all I knew after that night was that I was in love, but that it wasn't with, Mic Brumby."

Harm swallowed; it was time to lay all his cards on the table. "Who are you in love with, Mac?"

"Oh, I think you know." She grinned.

"Tell me anyway." His tone was serious.

She leaned up and kissed the corner of his chin. "Just you," she whispered.

Harm released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Absolute joy rolled through his body like waves crashing on the shore. He pulled her close, squeezing her tightly. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing that I already told you that I love you?"

Her arm curled around his neck. "Yeah, that was nice." She was trying to sound nonchalant, but Harm could hear the happiness in her voice.

"So," he said, at ease for the first time in nearly two years. "What do we do now?"

"Well," she said slyly. "I do have this slightly used wedding dress. You think we could maybe try to get it though an entire ceremony without interruption?"

Harm grinned. "I think I might be able to arrange that."


End file.
